


Pilot

by thatpunnyperson



Series: Another Viewpoint [1]
Category: Psych
Genre: Episode: s01e01 Pilot, F/M, M/M, Pilot Rewrite, but not explicitly written sex, implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 15:09:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13906647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatpunnyperson/pseuds/thatpunnyperson
Summary: When Lassie meets a guy in a bar and takes him home, Lassie doesn't expect him to be the guy he's interrogating the next day. When the guy ends up claiming to be psychic, he doesn't expect anyone to believe it to be true. When the police chief hires the guy on an active kidnapping case, Lassie tries to role with the punches and pretend he's never met the guy before. But he has. And he likes him.





	1. Chapter 1

It all began at the bar. Lassie rarely ever went out to drink, preferring instead to sip single malt scotch in the comfort of his own home. However, this was something of a rough day for him: his wife—soon-to-be ex-wife, he guesses—had sent him a box of what were probably the last of his things. Naturally, she had told him to move out when their marriage started to fall apart, so he did the only reasonable thing and got an apartment close to the precinct so he wouldn't have to drive too far to work and back.

But that meant he was also closest to the cop bar out of all the bars in the city, and when he wanted to go out for a drink, he would likely run into his coworkers. He didn't want to run into his coworkers. 

That didn't matter, though, because as soon as he finished his tumbler of whiskey, some guy sat down next to him and ordered the two of them another round. The guy probably didn't know Lassie only orders the top shelf whiskey whenever he goes out rather than bothering to drink whatever local swill the bar is passing off as a "specialty" drink. 

The bartender set two new glasses down, puts a spherical ice cube in each class, and pours two fingers of whiskey for each of them. Lassie watches as the guy next to him takes a glass and attempts to take a hearty drink, neither the gentle sip of a connoisseur nor the quick toss of someone simply trying to get drunk. The guy makes a grimace and let's the whiskey dribble out over the entirety of his bottom lip and back into the glass. 

"I don't know what I expected from this--" the guy looked quizzically at his glass "--whiskey? Man, how do you drink this stuff?" Lassie raised an eyebrow and took a sip from his own glass. The guy set his glass down and leaned on the bar.

"So, what do you do around here" the guy asked, eyes darting down to scan Lassiter's body. Before he could answer, the guys replied to his own question with "You're a cop, huh? You look like one...probably a detective, considering what you're packing. I'd say by the bulge of your coat that it's a early model Colt pistol?"

This actually made Lassie set down his glass. 

"How could you possibly know that?" Lassie asked, pulling back his coat to reveal not only the 1911 Colt but also his badge and his tightly muscled body. Being bisexual still counted for something, after all, and his marriage was on the rocks anyway. Might as well plan ahead. 

The guy's eyes lingered just as Carlton thought they would as they scanned down the newly exposed section of his body. Lassie knew that his standard Oxford cloth shirts and charcoal suit made people underestimate his true physique--in fact, he relied on it for taking down perps. 

"Lets just say" the guy began with a bit of a smirk, "that I have a trained eye and an attention to detail." The smirk deepened and Lassie watched as the guy tried to take another sip from his glass, clearly trying to look cool. The guy obviously forgot that the glass was still full of whiskey and made another grimace at the taste. 

"So what kind of cases are you working on?" The guy pushed his glass way with disdain and turned to face Lassie, one elbow resting on the bar while the other flopped between his legs in relaxation. Clearly, this guy is used to cops, but Lassie couldn't dwell on this detail because his eyes got distracted at the way the guy's jeans were stretching over his thighs. Lassie glanced back up to the guy's face and quickly put on his practiced "cop-talk" face.

"Well, there have been a string of robberies recently," Lassie began and the guy simply nodded along, listening intently. "We're converging on a few suspects and should be able to make an arrest within the next couple days." With that affirmation, Lassie downed the rest of his scotch and motioned to the bartender to refill his glass. He gestured to the guy and his own glass, to which the guy frowned and shook his head.

"I'm actually going to take this time to change my order to a Roy Rogers." The bartender shrugged and quickly made the classic cola and grenadine drink, placing a cherry on top as garnish. "You, my good man, can leave the bar of cherries here with me," the guy said with a grin and then turned back to Lassie, "But you, sir. If you're so close to wrapping up a case, why the long face?" He took a sip through the straw in his drink and Lassie watched how his lips puckered around the plastic tube before answering.

"I didn't come here to divulge my life's story to some random person. I came here to drink in the company of my fellow officers and then go home." Lassie punctuated his statement with a sip from his now full glass. 

The guy raised a single arched eyebrow and then set down his drink. 

"How about we make it so I'm not a stranger, then." The guy extended his hand with a smile and said, "My name's Shawn. Now I'm not just some random person." 

Lassie looked down at the hand and then tentatively extended his own, shaking this "Shawn's" hand. His skin was calloused unevenly, soft in the palm and the fingertips but rough around the edges. 

"Okay, 'Shawn'," Lassister began, "if you really must know, I'm drinking here in this bar because I just got off work but I don't want to go back to my apartment yet. It's too empty and I need to buy more single malt." 

"You never told me your name, man," Shawn said with a laugh. 

"Detective Carlton Lassiter," Lassie said, taking another sip of his drink. 

"Detective Carlton Lassiter, huh? That's a bit of a mouthful, isn't it?" This Shawn guy kept a smile on his face and Lassie could think of a few other things that would be a mouthful. "How about I call you Detective or Lassie, for short?" Lassie rolled his eyes and shrugged with a nod. 

"Okay, Lassie, Detective," Shawn began. "Why is your place so empty? Surely someone like you has family. Why aren't they there to keep you company?" 

"Are you always this inquisitive to people when you first meet them?" 

"Only when they're handsome and lonely."

"Fine," Lassie said, kind of warmed at the thought of someone considering him handsome. His wife--ex-wife--rarely called him handsome, and, well, it was nice to hear. "I'm going through a rough patch in my marriage and I was forced to find new living accommodations." 

"Dude, that's rough," Shawn said with a sympathetic hurt. "They made you leave? Were you at least able to get your stuff?"

"Yeah," Lassie said, "But she keeps finding things I forgot and mailing them to me. The box I received today came with a note that said 'this is the last of your stuff' and contained a photo album of our wedding photos."

Shawn winced in sympathy and took up his drink again, sipping from the side of the glass this time. 

"Break ups with women are always hard," Shawn began. "I find that they care a lot more about material possessions than guys do but maybe that's just a comment on the behavior of the guys and girls I've dated." Shawn looked at Lassie with expectation in his eyes but Lassie was too distracted. 

Did this guy just casually slip in that he wasn't straight?

"Did you just casually slip in that you aren't straight?" Lassiter asked before he could stop himself.

"Yes…," Shawn said cautiously. "Are you okay with that or do you want me to leave?"

"What? Why would I want yo--? No, that's perfectly fine with me," Lassie struggled to find the words. Why would him not being straight make Lassie want him to leave? 

"Oh, good," Shawn said, visibly relieved. "I just never know sometimes when it comes to cops. There're usually only two types: the 'pacifist, I don't care that you're bisexual' types, and the 'gun toting, get away from me homo' types. I can never tell who's going to be who."

"Well," Lassie began with a small grin. "You should know that I am all for gun toting. The second amendment and guns are some of my favorite things in the world, and I have 10 different side arms already hidden throughout my apartment." 

"That sounds like on he'll of a scavenger hunt, Lassie," Shawn said with a laugh, and Lassie was pleased to see that he looked less worried than before. 

"You should also know that I am bisexual, too, so you don't need to be nervous about me wanting you to leave," Lassie continued, taking a final sip from his glass and finishing his scotch, all while maintaining eye contact with Shawn. 

Shawn's eyes lit up and Lassie instantly felt worried at whatever he was going to say next. 

"Are you currently seeing anyone?" Shawn asked, catching Lassie somewhat off-guard.

"Uh," Lassie began. "Like, therapy wise? No? Why?"

"Oh my god, no. Not therapy wise," Shawn said with sarcastic frown. "I mean, as in, dating anyone." 

Oh. What? Before Lassie could process what he was being asked, he blurted out the answer.

"No one except my estranged wife."

"Perfect," Shawn said. "Let's go do some scavenger hunts." With that, Shawn pulled Lassie's wallet out of the front of his suit jacket, pulled money to cover their tab, and handed the wallet back.

"Your car or my motorcycle?" Shawn asked hopping off his barstool. That explains the callouses on his hands, Lassie thought. 

Lassie fished his keys out of his pocket and Shawn snagged them before he could say anything. Lassie had no choice but to follow Shawn out to the parking lot, but he was okay with it because this Shawn guy seemed like just what he needed. 

¤¤¤¤¤¤

For an apartment with only four rooms, Lassie prided himself on the ingenuity of his firearm hiding places. And yet, within seconds of being in each room, Shawn found every single weapon. The foyer/hallway/living room took exactly four seconds before Shawn shot him a playfully disappointed look and then walked over to unearth the three that were hidden. The kitchen had similar results, but Lassie was immensely pleased that Shawn missed the gun in his bowl of decorative installed peanuts. The look on his face when Lassie pulled out the gun was something Carlton will cherish forever. 

The bathroom in the hall was just purely comical. Shawn jokingly lifted up the bathmat only to find a knife taped to the bottom. He looked up at Lassie with nothing but questions in his eyes.

"I said I had 10 side arms hidden," Lassie said with a grin. "I said nothing of the other weapons." 

Shawn simply dropped his head with a grin and put the bathmat back in place. 

The bedroom was where things got...different. By this point, both of them had kicked off their shoes and Lassie had removed his suit jacket. He walked over to his closet and slid open the door, taking a hanger from the rack and hanging up his coat on the "dirty" side of the closet. He likes to keep track of which suit coats he wore and when. 

"Okay," Shawn announced before Lassie had turned back around. "I think I know where all the guns in this room are. Number One is here--" Shawn reader up and gently took the inverted glass bowl from where it was mounted over the ceiling light in the middle of the room. He reached up and pulled out a large black handgun. Shawn weighed it in his hand and Lassie watched as he tilted it back and forth with raised eyebrows, clearly liking that particular piece. Shawn placed it back in the ceiling and replaced the glass cover.

"Number Two is over there," Shawn said, pointing to the closet Lassie had just closed. He gently bushed against Lassie as he moved to slide the door back open, lingering as their bodies touched. He reached to the backside of the door and gently removed the small silver pistol taped there. He showed it to Lassie as proof that he found it before carefully putting it back, sticking the tape back down around it. Lassie knew full well how turned on he got by people handling his weapons and he was pretty sure Shawn knew this because he had touched almost every weapon in the apartment and Lassie was not discrete. 

"And," Shawn walked up to where Lassie was leaning against his dresser with his hands in his pockets and stood in front of him with his arms crossed. He got so close that his arms brushed against Lassie's chest as he breathed in. "Number Three is under the mattress on whichever side you usually sleep on." Shawn said this so low and quiet that Lassie could barely hear it over his own heartbeat. Shawn looked imploringly into Lassie's eyes, as if daring Lassister to say he was wrong. 

"Why not go pull it out and prove it?" Lassie goaded, his words equally gravelly as he stared right back. 

"If only I knew what side you slept on..." Shawn said with a smirk. 

This had clearly become a competition to see who could resist longer, and though Lassie wanted to win, Shawn was clearly still folding his arms to preserve any attempt at winning. With a grin, Lassie took his hands out of his pockets and said, " Why don't I show you?" Before beginning to unbutton his shirt. Shawn had the same idea as he unfolded his arms and reached up to help Lassie with the buttons.


	2. Chapter 2

Never had Lassiter been so glad that he decided to drink on a Friday night. Sure, there was a time-honored tradition of cops drinking late into the night and then having to go solve crimes the very next morning. However, as much as Lassie idolized his mentor, the former police chief, he also wanted to usher in a new order and a new breed of officers. Ones who were incorruptible and steadfast about upholding the law, ones who were responsible both on duty and off. 

So, yeah, the fact that Lassie had been out drinking the night before didn't faze him because he did it on the weekend and did not drink so much as to even give himself a hangover this morning. The light from the rising sun streamed in through the blinds on his window. Blinds closed last night as Shawn did his little scavenger hunt around the apartment. Blinds he made sure were shut when he let Shawn take the lead and demonstrate exactly why his jeans stretched so nicely over his thighs. 

But the blinds can only block out so much light, and the adamant sun pushed it's way through the fog of a typical Santa Barbara morning. Lassie lay there in bed lazily looking up at the ceiling as his fingertips dragged gently up and down the spine of the man lying across him. 

Not next to him. Across him.

Shawn was like an octopus, trying to cover as much of the bed as possible while simultaneously making it impossible for anyone else in the bed to move. Luckily, he also slept like the dead, so Lassie was able to push and pull him into a position that was comfortable for both of them.

The light through the blinds spilled across Shawn’s exposed back, luckily high enough in the sky that the light would only move down the rest of his body and not shine across his face. Lassie knew he should probably be getting up soon because his life is nothing but rigidly scheduled and things feel...off...if he doesn't do things at the right time. But getting up would mean moving Shawn, and moving Shawn was simply not possible.

Because Shawn was essentially in possession of Lassie's left arm. Lassie was laying CORRECTLY in bed, with his head on a pillow and his body parallel to the side of the bed. Shawn, however, was lying with his torso almost perpendicular across Lassie's with his head snuggled into Lassie's elbow. To move his arm would mean removing Shawn's we facto pillow and that just felt mean. 

So Lassie lay there, letting the time pass by slowly, feeling Shawn's heartbeat and watching as his back rose and fell with each breath. 

After about half an hour, Lassie's habit of eating breakfast at the same time every morning decided to complain about not being followed for the first time. Shawn sleepily swore at the noise Lassiter's stomach made and repositioned himself just enough so that his head was now on Lassie's right shoulder and the offending portion of Lassie's torso was farther away. Unfortunately, this led to Shawn wrapping his arms around Lassie's middle and wrapping both legs around Lassie's right leg. 

Any chance of escape was now lost as Shawn gently pulled himself as close as possible and all but nuzzled into the chest hair of Lassie's right pectoral. Lassiter rolled his eyes and gently pried himself free, much to the whiny complaints of a very sleepy Shawn. He made sure to move a pillow in between Shawn's arms, though, so he'd still have something to wrap around. 

Carlton walked over to his closet and pulled out his bathrobe, putting it on and then walking to the kitchen to make breakfast. The coffee machine had scarcely had time to fill the pot when Lassie heard the muffled footsteps of a very tired human make their way into the kitchen and onto a stool by the center island. 

"How are you up and awake this early in the morning?" Shawn asked though a massive yawn. 

"Habit," Lassiter said. "I get up at the same time every morning and eat breakfast a the same time every morning after I get up. This is actually late for me." He opened a cabinet and pulled to SBPD mugs out, placing them on the island. 

"How in the actual hell do you manage to keep that tight a schedule?"

"I guess I'm just that put-together," Lassie said with a smile as he poured coffee into both cups. He grabbed several small containers of coffee creamer and several packets of sugar and emptied them into his coffee. Shawn watched as Lassie stirred the coffee thoroughly, eyebrows furrowing with every second.

"Hmm?" Lassie looked at Shawn as he took a sip.

"You drink the most pretentious of liquors and yet you take your coffee with a side of cavities and weight gain?" Shawn reached over and snagged a few sugar packets and a single creamer. 

Lassie frowned sarcastically and huffed. 

"So what if I have a complicated palate? Single malt scotch is a gentleman's drink and I can take my coffee however I like it." He punctuated his statement with a sip of his delicious coffee. 

"I mean, yeah, I guess, but that can't be good for you," Shawn said. "Do you even get enough exercise to work off the added calories of that cream and sugar?" 

"I'd say we worked them off last night," Lassie said with a grin. 

"No, I'd say *I* worked them off last night, Mr. I Give Orders Enough At Work So You Can Give The Orders Tonight," Shawn replied, taking a sip of his own coffee. 

"Maybe that's why you're so sour this morning," Lassie surmised. "You're tired from getting up early and from all the exercise it takes to be a, what did you call it? A 'power bottom'?" Shawn's pout brought an actual smile to Lassie's face.

"I'll have you know that bottoming is a very difficult skill," Shawn refuted. "One that has taken years to perfect, so you're welcome for last night." 

"You're right," Lassie acquiesced. "I should thank you for last night. I was feeling down and you helped me get my spirits back up."

"That's not the only thing of yours I got up," Shawn said cheekily as he took another drink from his mug. "Speaking of, I have to head back to the bar and pick up my bike."

Lassie nodded in agreement and leaned back against the counter. 

"Luckily, the bar's not too far from here," Lassie began. "It's literally a--."

"Ten minute walk," Shawn finished the thought for him. "My dad lives little ways from here and I used to walk from home to the bar and the precinct all the time as a kid." 

Lassie didn't expect Shawn to reveal anything personal about himself. After all, Lassie had done all the sharing at the bar the night before and had kind of accepted that this would be an impersonal one-night-stand. Still, he craved that emotional connection and intimacy. 

"Mind if I use your shower?" Shawn asked. Lassiter nodded and Shawn downed the last of his coffee before walking off towards the bathroom. That's when Lassie realized Shawn hadn't been wearing anything the whole time they'd been talking over coffee. 

¤¤¤¤¤¤

After Shawn had left, Lassie realized that he should probably take a shower, too. However, when he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, he noticed just how many bruised, bite marks Shawn had left. There were three that had blossomed on his collarbone and Adam's apple, as well as one behind his right ear where a large tendon runs under the skin. Good thing I wear collared shirts, Lassiter thought. 

He showered and dressed, strapped his holster to his torso, and straightened up his bed before grabbing his keys and heading to the station. He had received an anonymous tip about his burglary case and, although he wasn't particularly fond of working on the weekends, he was willing to make an exception in the name of wrapping up the case. Plus, blowing off steam last night had helped clear his head and he was ready to put the screws to guy who had called in the tip. 

The owner of the store had admitted to orchestrating the burglary in order to collect the insurance pay out, just liked he anonymous tipster said he would, but then the owner had revealed that he had a partner. Lassie and his partner felt that the anonymous tipster was the partner, selling out his buddy in order to not have to split the money. Luckily, the tipster had agreed to come in and collect the reward money.

Lassiter pulled into his parking spot and got our of the car. He walked into the precinct and hung his suit jacket on the rack near his desk and sat down to begin combing over other case files before the tipster was due to arrive. 

"Hey, how was your night?" Lassiter looked up and say his partner, Lucinda Barry, sitting in the chair next to his desk. "You seem...relaxed. Almost happy, but I don't know if I would call it happy. More like focused."

"I got a few drinks at the bar and then slept pretty well last night," Lassie answered. Yes, they were partners, and yes, they had hooked up a few times, but she didn't need to know every detail of his life.

"You? At the bar?" Lucy looked surprised. "You never go to the bar." 

"Yeah, well, I was feeling a little down yesterday and I drank all my scotch at home," Lassie said, trying not to sound defensive. It was almost too easy to forget he worked with another detective and that hiding things was a surefire way to get her investigative gears moving. Luckily, he was spared from having to elaborate by someone informing them that their tipster was in Interrogation Room B.

"Let's go get this guy," Lassie said and stood up from his desk to grab his jacket. He slid it on and buttoned it as he walked, his partner falling into step next to him.

"Yep, definitely focused," she said, almost to herself. Lassiter chose to pretend he didn't hear her.


	3. Chapter 3

"So, when do I get my money?" a familiar voice asked as Lucinda stepped into the room ahead of him. Lassie tried to place where he'd heard the voice but it was a moot point when he saw who was pacing by the table. 

Shawn. Apparently, his last name was Spencer. 

"Money?" Lassie's partner asked.

"Yeah, my reward?" Shawn replied. "You guys arrested the store manager, am I right?" Shawn's eyes darted to Lassie before returning to Detective Barry. 

"Why don't you let us ask the questions for a while?" Lassie said, hoping his voice didn't give away the fact that he was very confused.

Shawn sat down in the chair by the table, and Detective Barry sat in a chair opposite him. Lassie circled around to stand behind Lucy and couldn't resist quickly playing with a perfect curl formed by her hair. 

"Okay," Shawn began and then paused before continuing, "So, which questions might those be?"

"Oh, I don't know," Lassiter began, hating that he had to ask the following question but also ambivalent about the fact that he barely knew the guy. "Like, where were you the night of the last robbery?'

"I was robbing a stereo shop," Shawn said, laughing. That damn laugh. "I wasn't," he quickly added. "I don't know, I guess I was doing the same thing you were doing, not solving crime."

What? This is not the guy Lassie met in the bar last night. That guy was gentle, inquisitive, and patient. This guy is rude, standoffish, and acerbic. 

"You're not helping you case here," Lassie said, coldly. 

"My case?" Shawn asked incredulously. "Wait, wait, wait. I'm actually a suspect?"

" Oh, you're out lead suspect," Lassie said, which felt wrong now that he's seen who the tipster is. But he wasn't going to let his personal feelings compromise his judgment. 

"I gave you the guy," Shawn said matter-of-factly, as though that alone should absolve him of any guilt.

"He had a partner."

"I have to find that guy? I'm confused." Shawn was clearly getting exasperated, and Lassie was starting to see his facade crack. "When do you start chipping in?"

"See, your information was good." Lassie had to admit, demonstrating his skill in the interrogation room to Shawn was becoming fun, especially since he suspects Shawn wasn't guilt. He had to play it through, though, just to see how things would go. "So Good, it could only have come from the inside."

"Inside of what? Look," Shawn practically pleaded, in his own sarcastic way of pleading. "I've called in dozens of tips, okay? Just check it out."

"I did," Lassie replied. He was essentially justifying the comment he made to Shawn the night before--*I do enough dominating at work so I don't mind giving up the reigns at home*--and it felt good. "I check out a whole lot of stuff like--" 

Lassie opened the file that was sitting on the table, the one he didn't realize was for this Shawn until he walked in. When he had first read through it, he had thought the guy was a disobedient, childish man. Now, he knew that disobedient, childish man also had the capacity to be a mature and responsible adult and simply chose to be immature depending on the situation. Which was infuriating. 

"Oh," Lassie continued, "You’re currently unemployed. You've never held a job for more than six months, and you have a criminal record."

"I was 18," Shawn said, angrily. 

"Oh, 18? We'll, that makes it okay. Let me just scratch that out!" Lassie was probably having more fun than necessary antagonizing Shawn.

"I borrowed a car."

"You STOLE a car."

"To IMPRESS a GIRL."

"Look," Detective Barry interrupted their bickering. "Forgive us, Mr. Spencer, if this seems far-fetched." She shot Lassie a look telling him to cool his jets a bit.

"Would it help at all if I told you that she had a bit of a reputation and I was 0 for high school?" Lucy and Lassie both looked at his skeptically, so he backtracked. "Okay, fine. There were extenuating circumstances. The starting officer was my father, he was trying to teach me a lesson."

"Did you learn it?" Lassie asked, knowing what the answer might be.

"I learned I hated my father, so, sure." The bitter and defeated tone in Shawn's voice hit something in Lassie, and he almost felt bad for hassling him this whole time. Almost. Shawn still hadn't proven his innocence. 

This arguing went on for several more minutes until finally, Lassie had had enough of Shawn's circumlocution.

"A few hours in a holding cell might jog your memory," Lassiter suggested. He watched as Shawn looked at the holding cell just outside the interrogation room. 

"Just give us a reason, Mr. Spencer," Lucy said. "That's all we need. How did you get this information?"

"No, it's too late for that," Lassie said, peripherally seeing Shawn shoot him a betrayed expression. "Officer Allen, book him."

Officer Allen, the short, black woman who works the front desk and had come down to watch them work, took out her handcuffs and cuffed Shawn Spencer behind his back. The way his shoulders angled his arms reminded Lassie of the night before and he had to blink hard to get the thought out of his mind. 

"Oh, come on, cuffs? What? For the walk back to the lobby?" Shawn said wiggling free from one of the cuffs as Officer Allen tried to re-secure them around his wrists. If only Lassie could store that knowledge away for future reference. 

"Or, you could give us a plausible explanation," Detective Lucinda pressed.

Shawn glanced at Officer Allen before slumping his shoulders with a sigh.

"Okay, okay. Fine," Shawn said, sounding theatrically defeated. "I got the information because...I'm a psychic." 

Officer Allen dropped the handcuffs.

"Get him out of here," Lassie said. How did he even manage to charms Lassiter last night? 

"Oh, boy," Shawn said as he randomly fell into the wall. He pointed at Officer Allen and said, "You're grandmother would be so proud."

"You spoke to her?" Officer Allen implored.

"I did," Shawn said, tenderly taking her hand. "She's safe. Comfortable. She wasn't you to stop spending l your money on those charlatans."

"The palm readers?" 

"The palm readers," Shawn replied, placing his hand on her cheek. 

"Okay, just to be clear," Lucy interjected. "You're claiming to be a psychic, Dr Spencer."

"How else would I know that you two are sleeping together?!" Shawn exclaimed, pointing at Lassie and Lucy. Then, he began bobbing his head and saying "One, two, three. One, two, three."

Shawn Spencer turned to face Officer McNab. 

"When's the wedding?" he asked.

"May 3rd," McNab answered impulsively. "Wait, how'd you know?"

"I'm getting dance lessons for a wedding reception," Shawn said. "And you are getting good." 

"Wow, this is amazing," McNab said, turning to Lassie with a grin. 

"Oh, come on," Lassie said exasperated. If he was a psychic, why did he ask all those questions last night at the bar instead of simply reading his mind? "Who's buying this?" Lassie was disappointed to see not only officers Allen and McNab raising their hands but also a prisoner in the holding cell, too. 

"I got it," Shawn began and looked Lassie dead in the eyes. "Go to Detention Room 2, shake down your vandal. All the evidence you need--" Suddenly, Shawn's left leg started to spasm, his left foot wiggling seemingly uncontrollably. "--All the evidence is in his left shoe."

Lassie saw Detective Lucinda roll her eyes. 

"We'll be back here in three minutes," Lassie said menacingly as he pushed past Officer Allen. "With my own cuffs." 

¤¤¤¤¤¤

"That was a lucky guess," Lassiter told his partner. It had to be. How else could he have known?

"A lucky guess?" Lucy said incredulously.

"He planted it," Lassie threw out there. "I don't know." How the hell was Spencer right?

"His alibi checks," Lucy continued. He'd have to figure out how Shawn knew. There's no way Shawn Spencer was a psychic. For now, though, they have a new case to work on. 

Kidnapping. 

Lassie grabbed his keys, the case file, and his jacket, and headed to the parking lot. He and Lucinda got in the car and drive to the McCallum residence, the site of the kidnapping. The McCallums were one of, if not THE most important and influential family in Santa Barbara and their son had gone missing. 

"So, what happened back there in the interrogation room?" Lucinda suddenly asked as they were driving. 

"What do you mean?" Lassie asked, genuinely confused as to what she was referring. 

"You and that guy, Mr. Spencer," she elaborated. "You were at each other's throats, as if you had a personal axe to grind. Do you guys know each other or something?" Lassie tried not to pause too long before answering.

"I may have met him before, but not enough for him to matter," Lassie said noncommittally. " I meet a lot of people. Maybe he was at a crime scene or something, and decided he didn't like me." Which is completely a lie, if last night was anything to go by. Wow, Lassie has GOT to stop thinking about last night. 

"Hmm," Lucinda said, clearly not wanting to drop the subject. "I guess that would make sense. You can be sort of abrasive sometimes." 

¤¤¤¤¤¤ 

Lassie and his partner arrived at the mansion and began talking to the house staff. Since the chief was talking with the family, after combing through the staff, Lucinda and Lassiter had forensics come in and start bagging and tagging any and all evidence. Lassiter grabbed his notepad and went into the dining room to sort out his thoughts. 

As he was writing down a list of possible suspects and their respective motives, he heard that familiar voice again. Why the hell was Spencer at a crime scene? Lucinda walked into the room and sat down next to Lassiter.

"Apparently, Chief Vick hired Spencer on as a 'psychic consultant' in order to keep the feds off the case." Lucinda looked none too please as she relayed the information. 

"Then we will avoid him until we no longer can't," Lassie said. "We don't need his help. I've already made a list of suspects and their motives, while he has just arrived on the scene and has probably done something stupid already." 

Lucinda chuckled as Lassie slid his notes over. They could solve this crime easily. It's a simple kidnapping.


	4. Chapter 4

Lassie had just gotten into his loungewear when there was a knock on the door. He wasn't expecting anyone so he took the gun out from the secret compartment behind his framed schematic of a Leonardo Da Vinci catapult. He held the gun up and pointed it at the door as he leaned to look out the peephole. 

It was Spencer, and he had his hands in the pockets of his coat. Lassie sighed and put the gun in the back of the waistband of his corduroy slacks. He pulled his sweater over the top to cover it in case his neighbors were in sight, knowing that they wouldn't care but being safe about it anyway.

Lassie turned the handle and opened the door.

"Good evening, Spencer," Lassie greeted dryly. Shawn walked past him in a huff. Lassie hadn't noticed the sour expression on his face through the peephole.

"What the heck was that at the station?" Shawn asked, indignantly.

"That was us interrogating you," Lassiter explained calmly as he took a seat on his couch. 

"Yeah, I get that, but why?" Shawn had taken off his coat and hung it on the coat rack by the door, which seemed oddly polite of him. 

"We had reason to believe you were the partner the stereo store owner mentioned. I though we went over all this at the station," Lassiter was getting exasperated. He was literally about to sit down and read the California penal code before going to bed when Shawn showed up, unannounced and uninvited. 

"That reason being that I was RIGHT about the BAD GUY?" Shawn was toeing the line between talking and yelling and Lassie was proud of being the quiet neighbor. He stood up and walked over to where Shawn was pacing.

"Spencer, I will not have a noise complaint filed against me because of you."

"Also, what's with all the 'Spencer bullshit? This morning I was 'Shawn' and now I'm 'Spencer'?"

"I'm calling you 'Spencer' because it's respectful and because you still haven't given us a reason to believe you're not guilty. Despite our personal relationship, you are under suspicion of a crime and I'm going to treat you as such."

"Well, I don't like it!" Shawn was clearly uncomfortable about something but Lassie had a feeling that it wasn't about the whole "Spencer" thing. 

"Why are you really here?" Lassiter asked, putting his hands in his pants pockets.

"Why do you mean, 'why am I really here'? I'm mad that you treated me like some common criminal, like you didn't even know me."

"To be fair, I had no idea that the 'Shawn Spencer' who called in the tip and might be guilty of committing insurance fraud via stealing radios, was the same 'Shawn' who spent a pretty damn good night with me and didn't leave in the middle of the night like I thought he would."

Shawn stopped pacing for a bit to process this and then turned towards Lassie with a look of bewilderment.

"You thought I was going to leave while you were sleeping?" Shawn looked equal parts hurt and confused. "Who even DOES that kind of thing? That's just mean." 

"My ex-wife did that," Lassie said. "Three separate times." 

"And you still married her?" 

"I thought I was in love," Lassie said with a shrug. Hell, maybe he still is. Who knows?

"This feels like a hugging moment," Shawn said and then stepped in close to wrap his arms around Lassie's waist. "Holy shit, is that a gun?" Shawn stepped back in disbelief. 

Lassie took the gun from his waistband and Shawn's hands immediately shot up. Lassie rolled his eyes, hard.

"I'm not going to shoot you, Spencer," Lassie said as he went over to the picture frame and put the gun back. Shawn's hands slowly sank back down to his sides.

Shawn walked over and flopped onto the couch and Lassie sat down in the opposite corner. Resting his right ankle on his left knee and putting his right arm on the back of the couch, Lassie relaxed and grabbed his tattered copy of the penal code. 

"Do you mind if I get back to what I was about to do before you arrived?" Lassie asked Shawn and Shawn seemed to melt into the couch.

"Yeah, sure, go ahead," Shawn mumbled, no looking at Lassie because he was clearly lost in thought. Lassie sighed.

"Just spit it out man," Lassie commanded. "What's on your mind, Spencer?"

Shawn turned to him with a confused expression, his brows furrowed and his eyes staring into an unspecified middle distance. 

"If I HAD left in the middle of the night, would you have treated me differently in the interrogation room?" 

Lassie was confused by the question so he answered as honestly as possible.

"Maybe, but I don't think so," Lassie began. "I treated you like a perp because I thought you were one. At first, I was confused and a little hurt to have slept with a criminal, but then I realized that the personality you showed in front of me and my partner was less of the real you and more a product of the situation. So I pushed you to see how far you'd go before the facade broke. It turns out the answer is 'not very far'." Lassiter let out a soft chuckle. "I have to say, I'm still confused as to how you figured out those things about Officer Allen and McNab, but I sure as hell know you're not psychic." 

"Says the guy who literally lied about not seeing anyone," Shawn said with a hint of bitterness. "Don't go accusing people of being something they're not when you are guilty of the same crime." With that, Shawn pushed himself up from the couch and walked to get his jacket.

"That's why you're here?" Lassie asked. "You're mad that I didn't mention my partner last night? You know why, Mr. Psychic?"

"Yeah, because you wanted to blow off steam and didn't care who with," Shawn said with a lot of bitterness this time. Jealousy did not become him, but Lassie didn't care. It made Shawn seem passionate in his eyes.

"I didn't mention her because we only hooked up, like, three times," Lassie explained. "Yes, we WERE sleeping together, but not anymore. I mean, maybe if circumstances allowed, we might hook up again..." Lassie trailed off into thought, remembering those times with Lucinda and wondering if it would even be worth it to pursue her in earnest. 

"The point is that you lied, not that you can find a technicality to make it okay."

"Okay, I lied about being with someone, there. But you lied about being a psychic, so how about we clean the slate and promise not to lie to each other again?"

"You can't prove I'm not a psychic." Shawn had relaxed a bit and completely forgotten about putting his jacket on. Lassie knows this because he has one arm fully in a sleeve and the other hand stuck in the other sleeve, all because talking distracted him. 

"And you can't exactly prove you are, so how about you take your jacket back off and come get back at me for pissing you off in the precinct today."

Shawn grinned and tossed his jacket in the general direction of the coat rack, missing completely and making Lassie roll his eyes.

"Do you still have those handcuffs of yours that you were talking about earlier?" Shawn asked as he started taking off his shirt.

"I don't know how I feel about being handcuffed," Lassie said nervously. 

"What? No. The handcuffs are for ME," Shawn clarified with an eyebrow raise and Lassie stood up from the couch. Shawn walked off into the direction of the bedroom and Lassie opened one of the kitchen drawers as he passed, pulling out a pair of handcuffs and the corresponding key. 

The only question in Lassie's mind was what exactly Shawn was intending to do with the handcuffs, and he was looking forward to finding out.

¤¤¤¤¤¤

"Psst! Lassie!" 

Lassiter shot upright in bed, deftly pulling the gun from under the mattress as he moved. 

"What's happening?" He whispered to the room at large. After a few seconds he realized that the whispers had come from Shawn who was still lounging on the bed next to where Lassie had previously been lying. 

"Oh my god, cops are the worst," Shawn said mostly to himself. He rolled onto his back and propped himself up on his elbow to look at Carlton. "I wanted to warn you beforehand but I'm going to leave at some point early this morning because I'm going to prank my best friend."

Lassie flopped back onto the bed, bringing his hands up to his face and groaning.

"Spencer, are you a child?" Lassie said from behind his hands. He was still holding the gun and it's cool metal against his face was grounding. 

"Um," Shawn said, confused. "No? If I am, that would make this whole thing pretty weird, don’t you think?" 

"If you're not a child, then why are you pranking your friend?" 

Lassie felt the mattress shift next to him as though Shawn was moving from his back to his side while still propped on the same elbow. 

"He's my partner," Shawn said and Lassie stopped breathing for a moment. Shawn noticed and quickly explained. "No, not partner-partner, but partner in investigation. We're doing this case together, the McCallum case." Lassie started breathing again.

Lassie pulled his hands from his face and shoved his gun back under the mattress before turning back to Shawn. 

"So when exactly are you leaving?" Lassie asked. Shawn looked at the clock on lassie's nightstand that read 2:37am. 

"Around 7am," Shawn replied. 

"So," Lassie began," you woke me up 4 and a half hours before you're actually going to leave...just to tell me you're going to leave?"

"I didn't want you to wake up with me not here and then feel betrayed that I didn't tell you first," Shawn explained. "I don't want to be your ex-wife." Lassiter looked at Shawn, seeing the faint light from the streetlights outside silhouetting him against the almost blackness of the bedroom. 

"Thank you, then," Lassie finally said. "I appreciate it. Now can we please sleep?" 

"Oh, yes," Shawn said wrapping his arms around Lassie's torso and then rolling onto his back. The movement dragged Lassiter's body partially on top of Shawn's, so Lassie maneuvered himself so was settled comfortably over half of Shawn's chest. He turned his head so it was facing Shawn's and then he closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he relaxed again.

Shawn's arms tightened briefly around him and then moved to pull the blankets up around them. It took seconds for Lassie to fall asleep again.

¤¤¤¤¤¤

Why Shawn had warned him about leaving early was beyond him, considering Lassie usually woke up around 6 when the sun rose. 

Lassie lay there with his eyes closed, breathing deeply and enjoying the warmth of the body next to him. For the second day in a row, the light of the morning sun snuck through the gaps in his window blinds, lighting the room just enough for Lassie to see the large scar on Shawn’s chest in detail. It was several inches long in a straight line over his sternum. 

Lassie was still laying on his stomach with Shawn on his back next to him, Shawn’s left arm under Lassie’s neck. Lassie reached over and gently dragged his left index fingertip down the scar, noting that the texture wasn’t that different from the rest of the skin on Shawn’s chest. He traced his finger back up the scar and felt Shawn inhale deeply, his chest expanding and rising under Lassie’s hand. 

Lassie’s movements stopped when Shawn grumbled in his sleep, fearing he’d woken the other man. Shawn sleepily grabbed Lassie’s left hand and placed it on his face, over his eyes as though it was the dim light of dawn that had awoken him and not the feather-light touch of Lassiter upon his sternum. Lassie let out an amused huff and moved his own hand into Shawn’s hair and around to the right side of his head, his hand coming to rest where the man’s skull met his neck behind the right ear. 

After closing his eyes and listening to Shawn’s even breathing for another few minutes, Lassiter finally decided to actually get out of bed. He carefully rolled off of Shawn and stood up from the bed, stopping only to lean over and pull the blankets back up Shawn’s body. He grabbed his bathrobe and went to the bathroom to shower, grabbing a towel and hanging it on the wall hook next to the shower. He turned the water on and waited a few second before stepping into the rapidly heating spray, letting the water flow down his body and wash away the residual tiredness of waking up. 

He stood with facing the stream of water, his eyes closed as he let his mind wander. These past two days had been strange. His wife—ex-wife at this point—had officially kicked him out, he hooked up with a guy he’d just met at the bar, he then interrogated said hook-up, visited a crime scene, and then hooked up with the same guy as the night before. His ex-wife would have to be put on the backburner for now, as would Shawn, because the McCallum case was making no sense. 

The young man, Camden McCallum, had been missing for more than two days at this point and there had been no ransom note. Why would someone kidnap the son of the most influential family in Santa Barbara and not ask for ransom? It was possible that the son had simply been kidnapped in order to kill him, but the added factor of the dog also being missing muddied the proverbial waters. Based on the evidence gathered thus far, Lassie had no choice but to accept that both the man and the dog being missing at the same time was purely coincidental. 

Lassie reached over and opened his shampoo bottle, the snap of the cap almost loud enough to down out the sound of the bathroom door opening. Carefully closing the bottle, Lassie reached up behind the showerhead and pulled out the small pistol he kept hidden there. He held it carefully in his right hand as he quickly pulled back the shower curtain with his left.

Shawn gave Lassie a tired and disappointed look and put his hands up as he stepped into the shower. Lassiter reached back up to put the gun back and Shawn took that opportunity to wrap his arms around Lassie’s midsection and nuzzle into his shoulder blades. Lassie grabbed his bottle of shampoo again and squirted some into his hand, working it into a lather between his hands before reaching up and working it into his hair. He knew the muscles of his shoulders were flexing as he moved his hands through his hair and he smiled to himself as he felt Shawn tighten his grip around his waist. 

Lassie carefully spun around and used the rest of the soap on his hands to shampoo Shawn’s hair. Shawn rested his forehead contentedly against Lassie’s chest and his hands dropped down so they were on either side of Lassie’s hips, holding them close together with his tired yet still strong grip. 

Shawn said nothing more than the occasional hum of contentment for the rest of the shower, only speaking when Lassie turned the water off and stepped out of the shower.

“Come on, man,” Shawn complained tiredly, leaning against the wall. “The warm water was so nice. Why’d you have to turn it off?”

“We’re in a drought, Spencer,” Lassie replied as he toweled himself dry. “I can’t just keep the water running for you because you like the warmth. Also, I have a warm bed you didn’t actually need to get out of yet.” Lassie pulled on his bathrobe and reached under the sink for a fresh towel, tossing the one he found to Shawn so he could dry off. Shawn caught it and looked at it for a second before putting it over his head and ruffling his hair dry. 

Lassiter walked to the kitchen and started up the coffee pot, taking two mugs out of the cupboard and setting them on the counter. He heard the sound of Shawn walking past him and then the sound of Shawn flopping onto the couch in the living room. Lassie put his hands in the pockets of his bathrobe and leaned against the kitchen counter.   
Shawn was still not dressed, draped on his stomach over the entirety of the couch with his head on a decorative pillow Lassie’s ex-wife got him into the habit of buying. One leg flopped over the edge and onto the floor while the rest of his body practically melted to fit the contours of the couch cushions. Lassie heard nothing but the sound of the coffee machine gurgling and the sound of his heartbeat speeding up. 

“Come on, Spencer,” Lassie complained as he tried to get himself back under control. Shawn was looking much too tempting. “What if I have guests over and they want to sit on the couch? How will I be able to offer them a seat in good conscience knowing you’ve touched it with your naked body?” Shawn let out a laugh muffled by the pillow. 

“Maybe your conscience wouldn’t be so worried if the couch was also touched by your own naked body?” Shawn suggested, as though he could read Lassie’s thoughts. Maybe he really was psychic. 

Shawn ended up leaving a bit later than 7.


	5. Chapter 5

Lassiter and his partner, Lucinda, decided to get lunch together later that day to talk about the case. Apparently, Shawn had been sat down with a sketch artist at the McCallum’s house yesterday in order to provide a description of the kidnapper based on what he could psychically tell. Whatever that meant. He had produced the image of the daughter’s boyfriend, and though Shawn had claimed that he was not the kidnapper, Lassie and his partner had decided to look into seemingly unconnected friends of the family members.

“Detectives!” Lassie heard a voice yell. He looked over and saw a young, well-dressed black man walking towards them. And Shawn. This must be the best friend Shawn was talking about early this morning. Lassie would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little jealous of how handsome Shawn’s friend was. Maybe Shawn was lying about them only being investigative partners. 

“Detectives! Detectives!” the man called as he and Shawn jogged up to Lassie and his partner. “We have a breakthrough.” Lassie removed his sunglasses and gave the two men a disdainful look.

“It’s very important,” Shawn elaborated unhelpfully.

“I also have something important,” Lassie replied, unable to keep all of the saltiness out of his voice. The idea of Shawn lying about being with someone after giving him shit for lying about being with Lucinda was mildly infuriating. “I call it lunch,” Lassie continued. “Make an appointment.” 

“But this is—“ Shawn’s friend began before Lassie cut him off.

“You don’t have my interest. You don’t have my ear. Find a beat cop. Tell your story. Maybe I’ll read the report.” Lassie then turned to his partner and motioned her through the doorway to the restaurant they meant to have lunch at. “After you.” 

“Detective!” Shawn called out. Lassie tried not to think about how he had called out almost the same thing not 12 hours earlier. He watched as Shawn placed a finger to his temple theatrically and followed up with: “Don’t eat the chicken.”

Lassiter shook his head and followed his partner into the restaurant. As soon as Shawn and his friend were out of earshot, Lassie turned to Lucinda.

“I don’t think I ever caught the other guy’s name,” he said to her.

“His name’s Burton Guster,” she replied as they were seated at a table. Lassie followed her gaze to where the two men were still standing on the other side of the street from the restaurant. “He’s got your number.” 

“He’s got nothing,” Lassie said honestly. At this point, the waitress came over and Lassie passive-aggressively ordered. “I’ll have the chicken enchilada. Extra chicken.” 

“Okay,” the waitress said and then turned to Lucinda.

“I’ll have the cheese quesadilla,” she said.

“Coming right up!” The waitress closed her notebook and left with a smile to get their orders in. 

“Coward,” Lassie said to Lucy. 

“You’re mad because he pegged us as a couple,” she replied. Lassie leaned back in his chair and scoffed.

“He was tipped off,” Lassie said matter-of-factly. “Did you tell anyone?” Lassie looked at her suspiciously. 

“Why would I tell anyone?” his partner said exasperatedly, leaning forward and resting her arms on the table. The way she moved brought her breasts together attractively and Lassie was momentarily distracted by the stretch of her skin. “Let everyone think I’m working my way up the ladder the hard way? You’re barely separated.” 

“It’s been five months,” Lassiter said and the waitress showed up with their water. Lassie had barely touched the glass to his lips before he saw something terrible in the kitchen. The chef was sneezing violently, just barely holding the raw chicken breast out of the way as he struggled to cover his mouth and nose. 

“I will be right back,” Lassie said to his partner, Lucinda, as he stood up from the table. He walked back outside and stopped on the sidewalk across the street from Shawn and his friend, Guster. 

“Okay,” Lassie said. “What is it?” Shawn grinned at his friend and pushed back from where he was leaning on the fence. He walked across the street and Lassie somehow knew that Shawn was going to take this opportunity to be as dramatic as possible. 

¤¤¤¤¤¤

During the whole drive to the place Shawn divined, Lassiter was thinking about Shawn’s behavior in private versus in public. He acted more or less the same, discounting the sexual nature of his behavior in private. Shawn liked to control the progression of events while letting everyone else think they were in control. He enjoyed commanding attention but acted surprised when people acknowledged that he was at the center of the attention. 

Both while in bed and while working this case, Shawn was in control of the situation and dictated where Lassie went and what he did once there. Lassie realized he was finally understanding what a power bottom was when he saw Shawn making faces in the rear view mirror. Shawn had the ability to be attractive and enticing at one moment and then childishly manipulative the next. It was exhausting. 

Finally, they pulled over on the side of the road and got out of the car. Shawn immediately dashed into the trees and was gone, startling Lassie with his speed. Shawn’s friend, Guster, ran after him and Lassie and his partner had no choice but to follow the two civilians into the woods. After a couple hundred feet, Lassie caught up with Shawn and Guster who had slowed to a purposeful walk.

“This is great,” Lassie said as he stepped on some particularly soft earth. “Now what?”

“Does anyone have any binoculars?” Shawn asked to the group, walking down what was beginning to look like a path through the trees.

“No. No. You see,” Lassie began, regretting leaving his pair in the car but not wanting to admit that he actually had a pair with him. “We don’t carry binoculars.” He watched as Shawn pulled a compact pair out of his back pocket.

“Oh, never mind,” Shawn said with fake shock. “I found some here in my pocket.” Shawn lifted the binoculars to his eyes as they walked out into a small clearing next to a small lake. 

“There it is!” Shawn exclaimed. “Just like I saw it!”

Lassie snagged the binoculars from Shawn’s hands, trying not to notice how their hands touched in the process. 

“Want to tell me what I’m looking for, please?” Lassie asked, peering through the binoculars. All he could see was a nondescript cabin with a few kayaks on the shore nearby. 

“Uh, I’m…” Shawn paused for a moment before continuing. “I’m not sure exactly. I see a bone?”

“What, a human bone?” Please don’t let it be a human bone, Lassie thought. That would complicate the case more than it needed to.

“No. No. Rawhide? And a ball?” 

Lassie was about to say something caustic to Shawn about the vague nature of his supposedly psychic powers, but then he saw a dog run out from behind one of the kayaks. 

“Holy crap,” Lassie said as he lowered the binoculars. “Call for backup,” he said to his partner, who ran back to the car.

“What?” Shawn asked. “What do you see, detective?” 

Lassie turned back to Shawn and tossed him his binoculars. 

“Let’s find a way around to that house,” Lassiter said before gesturing for Shawn and Guster to walk ahead of him. They were halfway through the woods when Lassie stopped them.

“Spencer, a word?” 

Shawn motioned his friend to keep heading back to the car.

“Are you sure?” Guster asked. “He could kill you and hide your body in the time it takes for me to get back to the car.”

“Gus, he’s a policeman,” Shawn said to placate his friend. “He wouldn’t do something so illegal. Go back to the car and warm up the seat for me.” Guster apparently found this to be solid reasoning and turned around, walking back towards the car. Shawn turned back to Lassie once his friend was out of earshot.

“What’s up?” Shawn asked, eyes bright and hands in his jeans pockets. 

“How did you know the dog would be here?” Lassie asked. “In fact, how did you know the chef was sneezing on the chicken at the restaurant? I know it’s not because you’re psychic because that’s not possible. Psychics don’t exist.”

Shawn had the audacity to look genuinely hurt at that last comment and Lassiter rolled his eyes. 

“Maybe I am truly psychic and you’re just afraid of my power,” Shawn countered. Lassie unbuttoned his suit jacket purely so he could put his hands on his hips and level Shawn a look of disdain. He didn’t miss the way Shawn’s eyes trailed down his torso for a moment before returning to his eyes. And then Shawn’s eyes seemed to zero in on a spot behind Lassie’s ear. 

“Sorry about that, by the way,” Shawn apologized. “I hope no one’s given you shit for it.”

Lassie reached up and touched the fading bruise Shawn had made two days ago. Luckily no one had noticed it yet or, if they did, they probably assumed a criminal had hit him while trying to escape. 

“I’m just surprised you didn’t make more teeth marks last night,” Lassie said, lowering his hand to his collarbone absentmindedly. 

“To be fair, I was more focused on places below the head and shoulders last night,” Shawn said, looking pointedly at Lassie’s hips. “And teeth are dangerous around such sensitive skin.” 

“Speaking of, we need to talk about what exactly this—“ Lassie motioned between he and Shawn. “—is. I thought it was going to be a one-night-stand but then it happened twice.”

“We’ll talk about it at some point,” Shawn said. “For now, though, we should get back to the car. Gus and your partner are probably getting tired of waiting for us.” Shawn reached over and gently patted Lassie’s shoulder before walking off in the direction of the car. Lassie brought a hand up to his face and tried to wipe the thoughts away. 

¤¤¤¤¤¤

After coordinating with SWAT and letting them storm the cabin, Lassie drove up to the cabin, past the emergency vehicles parked along the road. He parked and he and Lucy got out of the car, not waiting for Shawn and Guster to get out of the back seat. They followed being Lassie and his partner, though, and Lassie could hear them talking amongst themselves. 

Lassie was acutely aware of Shawn behind him and was glad he had chosen a well-tailored suit today. It wasn’t until the kidnapped man’s dog ran past him and scared Guster that Lassie forgot about how he looked.

The dog had what looked like blood on its muzzle. 

Lassie and Lucy walked up the steps of the cabin and met up with Chief Vick inside. She had a horrified expression on her face and then Lassie saw why. There were two dead men in the kitchen, one killed by what looked like a gunshot wound to the torso and the other laying facedown in a pool of their own blood, presumably from being bludgeoned in the head. 

Lassie looked at the chief, seeing the look in her eyes, and then stepped outside and motioned an officer over.

“Go get Shawn Spencer from over there and bring him to me,” he commanded. He watched at the officer walked over to where Shawn was petting the dog—because of course he was—and waited until Shawn and his friend had made it over to the steps before stepping back into the house. Chief Vick lifted a handkerchief to her face and covered her mouth and nose. 

“Wow,” Shawn began. “It is just like I saw it before.” He walked around with a smile of wonderment, clearly not reading the atmosphere of the room. Lassie could pinpoint the exact moment Shawn realized the truth of the situation because his face froze and his eyes darted around the room. 

“Pardon me,” Guster said. He looked at the chief and Lucy and said, “Ladies,” with a small nod. He then looked at Lassie and the forensics guys and said, “Gentlemen,” with another small nod. And then he ran from the room screaming. 

¤¤¤¤¤¤

Against his better judgment, Lassie gave Shawn and Guster a ride back to their car. He didn’t miss the fact that their blue Echo immediately followed him back to the station or the fact that they immediately went into the chief’s office. He didn’t miss these things; he just chose to ignore them. 

Lassiter had better things to do—more important things to do—like talk to Mr. McCallum about his son’s death. They had called him to make a positive ID on the son and his friend, and he had stayed to help wrap up the investigation. Lassie felt that something wasn’t quite right, but Mr. McCallum wanted the whole ordeal over with now that his son was dead, and Lassie couldn’t argue with that. 

“I’m sorry we weren’t able to solve this in time,” Lassie said, somberly. 

“I kind of knew this would happen,” Mr. McCallum replied sadly. “The kid never did have enough common sense, or god choice in friends. I’m not surprised this one did him in.” Lassie reached over and shook Mr. McCallum’s hand, noticing the bandages over the man’s wrist.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Lassie said, and Mr. McCallum nodded his thanks. Lassie released his hands and began gathering up the case file papers as his partner opened the door to show Mr. McCallum out of the conference room. 

Lassie heard Shawn call out “Mr. McCallum!” and rolled his eyes with a sigh. Luckily, his partner, Detective Barry, caught Shawn before he could talk to the man. 

“Chief wants them left alone,” Lucinda said to Shawn as she cut him off.

“Well,” Shawn began as he looked over her shoulder at the retreating form of Mr. McCallum. “We all want to be left alone.”

“Yeah, some more than others,” Lucinda replied tiredly. 

“What’s with his wrist?” Shawn asked pointedly, and Lassie straightens up his now filled case file. He walks out of the conference room to stand next to his partner ad levels Shawn with a look of tried patience.

“You don’t give up, do you?” Lucinda said, taking the file from Lassie and putting it under her arm to file later. Lassie unbuttoned his suit jacket and put his hands in his pants pockets. He saw as Shawn’s eyes darted over to his torso quickly and then back to Lucinda.

“I do give up. All the time,” Shawn refuted. “But not until the moment is right. Now, come on. I know you don’t think this adds up either.” Lucinda rolled her eyes and then looked at Shawn for a moment, thinking and then making up her mind about something.

“Okay, the rumor is he tried to off himself,” Lucinda said. Why she was telling Shawn all of this was beyond Lassie, especially since Shawn had concluded his work on this case. And the only reason Lassie knew any of that was because he could see the check sticking out of Guster’s pocket. 

“Off himself,” Shawn acknowledged flatly. “The war hero?” he continued, incredulously. “The man who’s seen everything? No. That’s not it. That’s definitely not it.” His certainty was infuriating.

“You know everything, don’t you?” Lucinda asked sarcastically. 

“Yeah. It’s scary, isn’t it?” Shawn sounded almost flirtatious as he said this. “Something is going on, and I’m going to find out what it is.”

Shawn tried to push his way around Lassie but Lassie caught him with his arm. He hoped Shawn would be distracted enough by Lassie physically touching him to not realize he was being walked to the door. 

“No, you’re not going anywhere near than man,” Lassie said, his voice low and velvety next to Shawn’s ear. “In fact, I’m going to make certain you never hear from the department again.” Lassie hoped Shawn knew he was only half serious because if it wasn’t for the information he gave them, they likely wouldn’t have found the son’s body for a while. But he wasn’t going to admit that. 

“I’m getting strong vibrations that you might be wrong,” Shawn said in an equally low voice and Lassie was done with the insinuating. 

“I’m onto you. You’ve got a source somewhere and I’m going to find it,” Lassie said, annoyed. “You think this is some sort of game? I’m not going to let you just waltz around here like some kid in a candy store.”

“Let me be honest with you, detective,” Shawn replied, equally as scathing. “I used to work in a candy store and it’s nothing like this.” With that, he turned on his heel and walked away, his friend following a few feet behind. Lassie tried to not look down at his ass as he walked away and failed.

“You’re in over your head, mystic,” Lassie called after Shawn. 

“What is it with you two?” Lucinda asked as soon as the two men were out of earshot.

“What do you mean?” Lassie asked back, still thinking about Shawn’s ass. 

“Every time you’ve interacted with him, you’ve gotten abrasive and angry within seconds of him speaking,” his partner elaborated. “What did he do to you to make you have such an obvious distaste for him?”

Lassie knew she hadn’t been present for the other times he’d interacted with Shawn but didn’t correct her.

“He comes in here to make a mockery of police work,” Lassie explained haughtily. “He’s not here to help, or he’d be more respectful towards you and I. Not drag us around town and into the woods on a hunch that only happened to play out in his favor.” Lassie walked back to his desk and Lucinda followed him.

“For all we know, Spencer and his friend could have been the ones who kidnapped the guy,” Lassie began as he hung his suit jacket on his coat rack. “He could have gone to the cabin since he knew we were getting close, killed the two guys, and then brought us there so that we would have to close the case.” He sat down at his desk and took his gun out of his shoulder holster to clean it. His partner sat down in the chair next to his desk and set the case file on her lap.

“We weren’t getting close, though,” Lucinda said pointedly.

“Then he was sloppy and got afraid that we would get close soon,” Lassiter corrected lamely, knowing what she was getting at.

“Maybe we could take your mind off things by getting dinner later?” Lucinda proposed, a hopeful tone in her voice. Lassie thought about it for a moment and then nodded. 

“First, let’s finish the paper work for this and then we can go,” Lassie said with a smile.


	6. Chapter 6

Lassie was lying in bed when he heard a pounding on his front door. He looked at the clock, seeing that it only read 11:11pm and wishing that the person at his door would go away. The pounding continued so Lassie got out of bed and slid his slippers on, not bothering to put on his bathrobe over his pajama pants and naked chest. He figured that the person at his door probably wasn’t dangerous based on the fact that they were knocking incessantly and hadn’t forced their way in yet. 

He got to the door and looked through the peephole, sighing tiredly when he saw who it was and opening the door.

“Spencer, it’s late. What do you want?” Lassiter said as Shawn gave a small wave and walked past him into the apartment. 

“To talk about the case!” Shawn replied excitedly, sounding not tired at all. 

“You mean the case we wrapped up earlier today?” Lassie replied closing the front door again and walking into the living room. “The case the chief already paid you for, the case you’re no longer on?” Lassie sat down in his armchair. Shawn sat on the couch and took a bunch of folded papers out of his jacket, setting them on the coffee table. 

“Exactly that case,” Shawn said, unfolding the papers and spreading them out. They were scrawled notes that looked like a child had written them. As Shawn took out a pen to correct something on one of the sheets, Lassie realized that it was Shawn’s writing and that his penmanship was just that bad. 

Lassie gingerly picked up one of the papers—which looked like it had Chinese food stains on it—and looked it over. He read the name Katarina McCallum and then the page was snatched out of his hand and placed back on the table. 

“Okay, so I worked out a lot of things after hanging out with your partner tonight,” Shawn began. “Camden’s friend—the friend whose cabin they were found at—had a car with a characteris—“ 

“You were hanging out with my partner?” Lassie asked, confused.

“Yeah, she was at the precinct and I was kind of there looking for you so we could discuss the case,” Shawn explained. “I ended up talking with her and we bonded in the shooting range in the basement.” Shawn then gave Lassie a coy smirk and said, “I fired her gun.”

Lassie lowered his head into his hands, trying not to think about Shawn handling his partner’s weapon. Or anyone else’s weapon, for that matter. Also, the implications of his partner sharing information about the case with a civilian not involved with the case were dire.

“You realize that you’re threatening my partner’s job by telling me you talked to her about the case?” Lassie asked. Shawn frowned condescendingly.

“You like having her as your partner,” Shawn began. “I don’t think you’ll tell the chief that she sold state secrets to the local psychic.” Shawn raised his eyebrows as though challenging Lassie to argue against him. Lassie shook his head and looked back at the papers on the table.

“Fine, you were saying about the friend’s car?” Lassie prompted Shawn to continue with a wave of his hand.

“Ah, yes,” Shawn said moving on of his papers in front of Lassie. “This guy’s car was incredibly noisy. So noisy, in fact, that he was spotted by the same old man twice. Knowing that Camden and this guy were friends since childhood, it’s not too wild to assume that everyone in the McCallum family recognized the sound of that car.” There was a poorly drawn Venn diagram of “people who would recognize the noise” and “people in the McCallum family” with the circles almost completely overlapping. Even the dog’s name was in the intersecting area. 

“So we know that the friend has a recognizably noisy car,” Shawn said, pointing emphatically at the diagram. “We also know that there was a random note and that someone paid the ransom.”

“There was no note,” Lassie interjected. 

“That we know of,” Shawn answered and then placed a different sheet in front of Lassie. “Katarina McCallum had a leather bag with indentations on it the exact dimensions of stacks of money. Indentations that would support the idea that the bag contained a ransom of easily five million dollars.”

“So Katarina is our murderer?” Lassie said, hoping that Shawn would say yes and that they could pick her up in the morning. 

“No, Gus and I followed her as she took the bag to a second-hand store. The bag was full of clothing, not money,” Shawn explained. “But Gus and I took the bag and placed money in it were the indentations were, and the bag could easily have held the money.” Shawn pointed to a slightly better drawn picture of a duffle with money in it. 

“So who paid the ransom?” Lassie asked and then backtracked. “Actually, if someone paid the ransom, why didn’t Camden McCallum get back to his family? Your explanation is starting to fall apart, Spencer.”

“That’s exactly what I asked myself!” Shawn said excitedly. ”If there had been a ransom note, why didn’t the police know about it? And if it got paid, why was Camden still missing? I had already realized that he had kidnapped himself and that—“ 

“Wait, he kidnapped himself?” Lassie interrupted. When did that become a thing?

“Yeah, he and his childhood best friend essentially ran away so Camden could have a new life,” Shawn explained, handing Lassie another paper. Sure enough, this sheet of paper had a list of the things Camden had gotten up to before his father threatened to cut him off. It also had arrows pointing to a date and next to the date was the phrase “last seen together in public” accompanied by a labeled drawing of the son and his friend. 

“Okay, so based on the fact that this kid and his childhood best friend hadn’t been seen together in two years, you decided that they had planned this whole thing in order to live in secrecy for however long the kid needed to…what, ‘reset’ his life?”

“Lassie,” Shawn said seriously. “Speaking as someone with a lifelong best friend, it is impossible to not see them for two solid years. Even if yours or their family said you weren’t allowed.” 

Lassie looked at Shawn, not seeing a hint of joking or humor. 

“Okay, so Camden McCallum kidnapped…himself,” Lassie said, despite how weird it sounded. “And then sent the family a ransom note that someone ended up paying. How can we figure out who forked over the cash?”

“Well,” Shawn began to explain. “We know it wasn’t Camden himself because why would he ask for money if he already had it? We know it wasn’t his sister Katarina because she tried to use the bag to donate clothes, and she’s far too nice to be a murderer—“

Lassie cut Shawn off again.

“Wait, so are we assuming that the person who paid the ransom is the same person who murdered the guys?” Lassie almost asked about Shawn’s relationship with the daughter but decided that he didn’t actually want to know. 

“Yes, Lassie. Come on. Keep up,” Shawn said with a smile. “So we know it wasn’t Camden or his sister. If you were a kidnapper, who would you send a ransom note to?” Shawn’s grin was getting larger by the second, and Lassie would be lying if it didn’t look attractive on him.

“I would send it to the most powerful person in the family,” Lassie answered, trying to keep a smile off his own face. 

“Which would be…” Shawn prompted.

“Mr. McCallum,” Lassie answered again, and then thought about it. “Mr. McCallum? Really? What’s your reasoning?”

“Picture it. He gets a ransom note asking for five million dollars and commanding him to not tell the police. What’s five million to him, the richest guy in Santa Barbara? He puts it in a duffle and drops it off at the specified location. Except, when he’s headed home, he recognizes a car heading in the opposite direction. A car headed towards the cash drop. It’s his son’s friend’s car! The noisy one! He knows this friend’s family has a cabin. He goes to the cabin. He finds his son and pushes him around to teach him a lesson about running away and extorting his own family. But his son falls and hits his head on the corner of the table. He’s bleeding and he’s not moving. Oh no, he’s dead. The friend comes back with a pistol and Mr. McCallum knows what he has to do. He makes the guy sit down in the kitchen chair and shoots him, making it look like a murder suicide. Then he grabs the bag of money and leaves, thinking he’s taken care of all the loose ends.”

Lassiter sat there in silence, thinking it over. That was quite a scene Shawn had detailed. And the worst part was that Lassie believed it. Lassie could understand exactly what Shawn was saying. But it wasn’t enough. 

“Where’s your proof?” Lassie asked, wishing Shawn had it written on one of the papers spread out on his coffee table. 

Shawn tapped the side of his head and Lassie sighed in defeat. 

“Then everything you’ve come up, this whole story you’ve laid out, is just that—a story,” Lassie said. 

“Not if you get him to confess,” Shawn argued.

“His lawyers know all the evidence is circumstantial and hearsay,” Lassie explained. “And a confession under coercion is not admissible in court, as much as I want to put the screws to him.” 

For once, Shawn was quiet. They sat there, looking at the papers on the table. Shawn took his pen out and wrote “need a confession” on the bottom of one of the pages, underlining it twice. 

“So…what do we do now?” Shawn finally asked in a small voice.

“Well,” Lassie said, sitting back and crossing one leg with one ankle on the other knee. “We have to gather enough evidence to make Mr. McCallum confess to the murder of his son and his son’s friend.”

“And what kind of evidence would that need to be?” Shawn asked.

“Barring Mr. McCallum himself telling us that he did it? Physical evidence tying him to the scene, his fingerprints on that bag—actually, no. Not even that bag you and Guster found is useful. You should still turn it in as evidence though, so we can have official paperwork backing up your claim that it can easily fit the ransom money.” 

Lassie looked over at Shawn and saw that he was deep in thought. Standing up from the chair, Lassie realized that almost two hours had passed as they’d been talking about the case. 

“Well, I’m going back to sleep,” Lassie said, looking down at Shawn who was still lost in thought and seated. “Are you staying or are you leaving, because if you’re leaving, I need to lock the door behind you.” Shawn looked up at him, his blue eyes an almost steely gray color.

“I’ll join you in a bit,” Shawn said, reaching up and patting Lassie’s hip absentmindedly. “I just need to make a few notes and work through some thoughts.” 

Lassiter nodded and walked back to bed, kicking his slippers off and climbing back into bed. He lay there for a few minutes, listening to the faint tap of Shawn’s pen, and eventually heard Shawn kick of his shoes and hang up his coat. He rolled onto his stomach as he heard Shawn walk down the hall to the bedroom, and pushed the sheets back next to him. The mattress dipped as Shawn lay down on the bed and Lassie threw out his arm to pull him closer only to find him fully dressed.

“Spencer, that can’t be comfortable,” Lassie said with his voice martially muffled by the pillow. 

“I don’t know how dressed I should be,” Shawn admitted. “I’ve only ever been naked in your bed.” Lassie sighed.

“Well, how about you start by losing the jeans and then end up wearing what ever you usually wear to sleep.”

“Ah, yes. Right. That makes sense.” The mattress moved as Shawn got back up and Lassie lay there as he heard the sounds of Shawn taking off his jeans and then his shirt.

“How do you feel about socks? Because sometimes my feet get cold but then other times—“

“Shawn.”

“I’ll take them off.” 

Shawn slid back onto the bed and under the blankets, taking Lassie’s arm and pulling it onto his chest with both hands. After a couple seconds of Shawn fidgeting, Lassie finally rolled slightly and pulled Shawn across the bed so his back was against his chest. Lassie wrapped his right arm around Shawn’s torso and rested his hand in the middle of Shawn’s chest, rubbing his nose gently against the back of his neck. Shawn brought both hands up to where Lassie’s was and held the hand to his chest, almost curling around it.

Lassie could almost feel Shawn’s heartbeat, but wasn’t sure if it was actually his own, so he counted the beats until he fell back asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

At 6am the following morning, Lassie awoke to an empty bed. However, the blankets were tucked in around him and a folded paper hat sat next to the clock on his nightstand. He reached over and carefully unfolded the paper hat. 

It was a page of Shawn’s notes from the night before, the one with the name “Katarina McCallum” on it that Shawn snatched away. However, the name was circled with a slash through it for some reason. Lassie appreciated the sentiment but that didn’t explain why Shawn had left quite literally before the sun had risen. 

Lassie turned the page over and saw a message carefully written, as though Shawn knew Lassie thought his penmanship was atrocious and was trying to write more clearly. The message said: 

Mr. Head Detective,   
Sorry for leaving so early this morning, before you woke up. I decided to go talk to Mr. McCallum about that confession and realized that he’d be more willing to talk if I was freshly showered and well dressed. I have to stop by Gus’s place to borrow some of his because I don’t own any nice clothes. Then again, maybe he won’t be willing to talk despite what I’m wearing, if which case leaving this early in the morning was pointless and I could have gotten several more hours of sleep in. Still, I hope I didn’t wake you and you’re very handsome when you’re asleep.  
\--Mr. Spencer

Lassie smiled and then immediately frowned, thinking about the idiocy running though Shawn’s veins. If Mr. McCallum was innocent, then getting harassed by a supposedly-department sanctioned psychic detective was going to piss him off and ruin the department’s reputation. However, if Mr. McCallum was guilty, then Shawn was going to try to outsmart a murderer. Based on the intellect Shawn had demonstrated this far, Lassie hoped that Mr. McCallum didn’t possess common sense, because that was the only area in which Shawn was lacking, and lacking severely.

Lassie tossed his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, figuring he’d get dressed and go to work before the inevitable message from dispatch summoning the police to the McCallum’s mansion. 

¤¤¤¤¤¤

“So, I hear you got a visit from Spencer last night,” Lassie began conversationally when he saw his partner at her desk. 

“Yeah, he stopped by and asked to see the file on the McCallum case,” Lucinda replied. “Obviously, I didn’t, because that’s illegal.”

“Of course,” Lassie agreed with a smile. “I want you to know, though, that I would keep it to myself if you had shared information with him, because I trust you to make the right decisions.” 

Lucinda looked at him for a moment, but all he did was smile and walk to his own desk, taking off his suit jacket and hanging it up. He sat down and pulled out the file for a new case Officer McNab had been told to give him. A standard B&E with a casualty, which should be an open and shut case.

Good, Lassie thought. He needed some easy cases after this McCallum one. 

Chief Vick suddenly came out of her office, looking agitated. 

“Detective Lassiter, Detective Barry, let’s go,” Vick said as she walked by. “We’re needed at the McCallum house. Mr. Spencer has gotten himself into trouble and needs to be arrested. Or something along those lines.”

Lassie shot his partner a grin as they both stood and followed Chief Vick to the parking lot. 

“You seem awfully excited at the idea of arresting Spencer,” Lucinda said as they drove.

“I am excited, that’s why,” Lassiter replied. And he was. He was glad Shawn had called for back up with Mr. McCallum, but he was also glad Shawn had given him the opportunity to cuff him and shove him in the back of his car. Carlton had been itching to demonstrate what happens when you disrespect the police but knew that the nature of their relationship only allowed the pseudo-acting they did in front of their colleagues. 

Lassie was ready to play the part of annoyed policeman. 

Sure enough, when they pulled up outside the McCallum mansion, Shawn and Guster were loitering in the driveway. He and Lucinda got out of the car, took out their cuffs, and walked over to the two men. Lassie pulled Shawn’s hands behind his back and cuffed him, maybe a little too tight than necessary but not to tight for Shawn to bear, based on how he dealt with Lassie’s handcuffs the other night. 

They walked Shawn and Guster to their car and Mr. McCallum talked to the chief.

“As you can see, Karen, this simply cannot happen,” Mr. McCallum said outrage. 

“It’ll be taken care of. Believe me,” Chief Vick said to placate the man. “He was given clear instructions to stay away.”

“I understand but…” Mr. McCallum’s words no longer mattered as Lassie stopped paying attention. 

“Yeah, it’s times like this that I remember why I love my job so much,” Lassie said to Lucinda as they took the two guys to around to either side of the car and opened the doors.

“Any time, Shawn,” Guster said over the top of the car.

“He’s getting cocky,” Shawn replied. “Give it a sec.”

“We’re going to be in a city jail in a sec,” Guster threw back.

“Uh-huh,” Lassie agreed. “Here we are.” Lassie went to push Shawn into the backseat but Shawn smacked his head off the doorframe. Lassie was almost positive it wasn’t his fault, but there was really no way to know.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did that hurt?” Lassie asked, only half playing along. He didn’t see any blood, so at most, the stunt would earn him a bruise. He saw Shawn shoot his friend a look over the top of the car again.

“Ah!” Shawn yelled. “Something’s happening!” Shawn began shaking and convulsing. “Gus! Something’s happening!” 

“Stop it!” Lassie told him, because his ridiculous “psychic” revelations didn’t have to be dramatic like this. He could literally just tell them without the theatricality. 

Shawn fell on the ground, writhing. Two officers stepped forward to help him, but Lassie waved them back.

“Wait,” Lassie said, to both the officers and Shawn. Everyone was watching. 

“The dog!” Shawn yelled as he rolled and convulsed. Lassie moved to stand over Shawn.

“Shut up,” he said to Shawn, trying to get him to tone it down without actually having to touch him. Shawn wasn’t making it easy, though. 

“He’s biting the intruder!” Shawn wailed. “He knows him! It’s someone he knows! The dog knows him!”

“Stop talking,” Lassie said with mostly fake anger. Sure, he was annoyed at the fact that Shawn was rolling around on the grass of a possible murderers lawn, but he figured Shawn knew what he was doing. 

“Ouch! Ow!” Shawn shrieked from the ground. “The teeth are digging in!” 

“Shut up!” Lassie commanded. 

“Oh, there’s blood!” Lassie reached down and grabbed Shawn around the midsection, lifting him off the ground and carrying him to the car, all while he writhed and wiggled and tried to escape. He was really committed to this performance. 

“It’s him!” Shawn called out in the direction of Mr. McCallum. “It’s McCallum! I can see his face! The killer is McCallum. Check his wrist! Check his right wrist! The teeth marks will match up!” Lassie felt as Shawn grabbed onto his suit jacket for balance, his wrists still handcuffed behind his back.

“Get him out of here!” McCallum bellowed. Lassie halfheartedly tried to shove Shawn into the car.

“Check the wrist!” Shawn callout out again.

“No one is checking any part of me!” McCallum replied angrily.

“Why not?” Chief Vick asked and everyone went eerily quiet. Lassie stepped back slightly and let Shawn stand up while keeping him bracketed by the open door and his body. 

“Huh?” McCallum said, turning away from Shawn and to Vick. Shawn took this opportunity to lean against Lassie for a moment, clearly tired from all the movement. Lassie was proud of the fact that he wasn’t tired despite having just carried a struggling 150-pound man several feet.

“We can close this out immediately. Discredit him right here,” Chief Vick offered. “That’s an awful wound you have bandaged there. “

“This is outrageous! Do you really want to do this?”

“We could do this now…or I could call in a warrant.”

“I’ll call my lawyer.”

“I’ll be right here.”

“I see a doctor!” Shawn interjected. “I’m seeing a doctor. Dr. Mandali. And a word. Consumine! Yeah, it’s for dog bites! The wound it fresh! Check the wound! It’s a fresh wound, it’s still a fresh wound!”

McCallum looked between Shawn and Chief Vick, stammering as he tried to think of something to say. All that came out of his mouth was, “It was an accident. I—I didn’t—“

“What?” Lassie said incredulously. Shawn’s plan had worked? 

“Sergeant,” Vick said as she waved an officer over to McCallum to cuff him.

“Come this way, sir,” the officer said as he led Mr. McCallum over to a cruiser.

Shawn leaned back against Lassie’s car and sighed. 

“You want to take these cuffs off me, please?” Guster asked Lucinda. She quickly unlocked them and he replied thanked her.

Lassie leaned next to Shawn, undoing his handcuffs as well. 

“Seriously…” Lassie began and Shawn turned his head to look at him. The sky made his eyes look a deep blue now. “How?” Lassie asked, not sure what even he was referring to. Shawn smirked.

“I wish I knew,” Shawn answered, cheekily. Lassie made a face and pushed off the car. 

He had to talk to the chief anyway.

¤¤¤¤¤¤

Back at the station, Lassie sat down to finish up the paper work on the McCallum case when Chief Vick called him into her office. He walked in and she motioned for him to sit. 

“Listen,” she began. “I’ve heard rumors that you are…romantically involved with one of your colleagues. Can you confirm or deny these rumors?” She looked at him with kind eyes and he knew he would have to tell the truth. 

“Yes,” Lassie answered. “The rumors are true, though I’m not sure how they made their way to you.” He was about to elaborate, not sure how much information she needed, when she spoke. 

“I know you understand that interoffice relationships are not allowed,” Vick said. “We’re going to have to reassign your partner.” 

Lassie’s heart hurt at that thought. He and Lucy had worked so many cases together and had grown quite close, close enough that he saw a future with her. But he understood precinct policy.

“I’ve already told her and she’s packing up her desk now. You should go talk to her, see if you can make this a clean break if need be.” Even Vick looked sad. Then, she steeled herself and fixed her expression to one of professionalism. “You are getting a new partner, though. She’s transferring in from Miami. In the meantime, we’re going to try to make some headway on this chop shop case. I’ve decided to bring Mr. Spencer in to try to psychically find us more leads to pursue. I hope your animosity with him won’t affect your ability to solve crime.”

“It won’t affect my work at all, ma’am,” Lassie said and gave a mock salute to which the chief gave a small smile. 

“For now, detective, go home and get some rest,” she told him as he walked out her office door. “You’ve done some great work these past few days.” Lassie nodded and headed back to his desk, almost running into an old, balding gentleman waiting outside the chief’s office.


	8. Chapter 8

Lassie had just showered and gotten dressed into his leisure clothes when there was a knock at his front door. He walked over, pulling the gun out from under the lamp on his hall table and holding it up as he checked the peephole. He tucked the gun into the back waistband of his pants when he saw who had knocked and opened the door, stepping back to let them in. 

“Good afternoon, Spencer,” Lassie said, closing the door as Shawn took off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack by the door.

“Hey, man,” Shawn said and then walked over to the couch to flop down on his back. “Did the chief tell you that I’m on the Summerland chop shop case with you?” Lassie walked over and sat in his armchair.

“She informed me as much, yes,” Lassie answered and then posed a question of his own. “Did the chief tell you that she’s transferring my partner because you outed our relationship?” 

Shawn craned his neck to look at Lassie and Lassie could see fear in his eyes.

“Shit, man. I’m sorry,” Shawn said and Lassiter could hear the sincerity in his voice. “I didn’t mean to ruin your relationship.” He relaxed his neck and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds before continuing. “It’s probably for the best, though. I mean, she was a good detective but, like, compared to me? Not great. Also, I’m a better shot that her and you can look at the shooting range target paper for proof. Also, her hair? Not as great as mine. But then again, whose is?” 

“Why are you here Shawn?” Lassie said through a smile. ‘It can’t be to ridicule my taste in women.” Shawn rolled over onto his stomach and propped himself up on his elbows.

“I want you to get me up to speed on the chop shop case so I can make you look useless in front of the chief,” Shawn answered honestly. Lassie stood up and walked towards the hallway, pulling his sweater over his head as he went. 

“Wait, you’re not going to fill me in?” he heard Shawn ask, so he turned back to face him as he unbuckled his belt.

“Oh, I’m going to fill you in,” Lassie said, watching as Shawn’s eyes followed his movements. “But I better get something first if you’re going to make me look bad later.” With that, he walked down the hallway to his bedroom. Barely a second had elapsed before a second set of hands was helping him with his slacks.


End file.
